


Bear-trap [ABANDONED WORK]

by Chainsaw_Maiden



Category: South Park, Supernatural
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angel!Butters, Angels, Demons, F/F, F/M, I can't keep going or else I will just spoil the entire thing, Kenny is a nephilim and hates life, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Prince of Hell Cartman, Stan and Kyle are demon hunters, Swearing, Tweek fucks up a deal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chainsaw_Maiden/pseuds/Chainsaw_Maiden
Summary: A hunter, out of his luck, makes a deal with a demon to bring his hunting friend back. The new trainee from hell ends up making a fatal mistake, and now has to prove himself as a key part of a human army during the Apocalypse.While 7 years ago, two Juniors in high school had to get revenge on the demon that killed Ike Broflovski. Today, they face the challenge of Hell rising up to Earth.This is an abandoned work due to a mixture of loss of interest and crappy scheduling. This is so broken apart that this should be considered a oneshot book.Abominations and hell-spawns riddle the Earth, human or not, yet love is a bridge between them all.(A SPN crossover with a couple of bent rules)





	1. Shake On It

**Author's Note:**

> Stick around for a chapter schedule at the end of every chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Craig and Tweek centered first chapter in which Craig intends on murdering a demon, just to get a new partner.

A sleazy bar at a crossroad in the most dense neck of the woods was a breeding ground for hunters, and Craig Tucker couldn’t ignore his attraction to the bar. He had parked his dad’s Impala outside, and was currently slumped over in a booth. He had been so used to drinking and laughing with Clyde, but Clyde is now 6 feet under. Craig took another swig of amber bourbon from his cup. The heinous mixture burned down his throat, and Craig let his back hit the booth. The warm, but choked environment of the bar dulled his senses. Craig sighs, and gets up from his seat, he just wanted one last drink before he sold his soul.

“Here I go I guess..” he whispered to himself. He dragged his feet dejectedly out of the door. Labored breaths were all Craig could hear as he walked out of the bar, and into the crossroad. He knew it was waiting for him.

“Ugh, I hate digging holes to sell my soul, why can't I just say ‘demon come eat my soul alive’ or some shit?” Craig complained. He dug out the little hole, and placed a bag with his picture, a black cat's bone, and the dirt from Clyde's grave. He had barely covered it when he heard a step behind him. The man turned around to see a fidgety demon behind him.

“Y-you’re here to make a deal?” the demon nervously stuttered. Craig had seen demons make deals before, and this was nothing like he imagined. Craig tucked his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker.

“It’s my picture in that box,” Craig remarked, raising an eyebrow. Most of the time, the demon already knew him. Craig still paid attention, this is going to be interesting. The demon panicked, his messy blonde hair shaking as his body did. He quickly shuffled closer to Craig, and looked at him desperately, as if he was afraid.

“I know you’re going to kill me after you make this deal.”

“What?” Craig tried to play dumb, when in reality, that was is plan, that was also his plan the first time he made a deal, and the second, and the fourth.

“My name is Tweek Tweak, and I used to be a-ngh reaper,” Tweek twitched in between ‘a’ and ‘reaper.’ Craig looked at Tweek with wide eyes, as the ex reaper took yet another step toward the hunter.

“I’m here to sell my soul for my friend’s life, not to marry you,” Craig sneered when in reality he was scared.

“D-don’t play dumb man! I was put on this role because of how many demons you’ve killed!” Tweek babbled, throwing his arms in the air.

“Prove it,” Craig said shakily. Tweek put his hands on Craig’s shoulders and shook him. He finally stopped shaking Craig before staring straight into his eyes. Craig shuddered as the short demon’s eyes turned red. Tweek spoke in a monotone voice as he spoke.

“Your name is Craig Tucker, you’re 25, and you are trying to bring your dead friend Clyde back.” Tweek spat.

“Any demon could know that,” Craig shot back.

“I know that you’re a closeted homosexual, and that the first demon you killed was named Mardy.” His stomach dropped. Craig remembered killing Mardy, he barely gave a fight.

“Okay, I get it, you were a reaper, what are you gonna take from me that isn’t my soul?” Craig bartered, taking a step back from the uncomfortably close Tweek.

“If you can get me out of the hell system, I’ll bring back your friend,” Tweek stammered. Craig took a second to think, and realized that this is a lot better of a deal than he expected. Yet, how will he pull it off? Craig exhaled, the cold night air making it visible. The light of a dim lantern barely lit up the two's faces, Craig's almost being in complete shadows. All Tweek could really see was the 25 year old's bird-like nose. The demon before Craig looked completely helpless.

"You have yourself a deal Mr. Demon," Craig responded. Craig held out a hand, but Tweek looked at it confused. He tilted his head, and Craig raised his eyebrow. Did he not see the hunters hand? Why was he giving Craig such a perplexed stare?

"What are you doing?' Tweek asked. Craig gave Tweek a confused glare, but he couldn't see his expression anyways. Tweek stepped forward, and put his hands around Craig's neck. Within a second, Craig felt as if he couldn't move a muscle. Fear filled his chest as the demon got dangerously close to his face. Tweek froze, and stopped for a second, the hunter could feel the breath on his lips. He shuddered, and stared into the demon's green eyes.

"I've never done this," Craig said nervously. Tweek backed up, and readjusted himself.

"What do you mean? You've made c-countless deals?" Tweek sputtered, scared he did something wrong. This was one of his first deals, and his manager Damien told him that he would seal every deal with a kiss, 'Make it as hot and as close to mouth-fucking as possible, I don't give a shit,' is what he recalled him saying. 

"They've always shaken on it for me!" He exclaimed. Craig did not expect to have a demon try and mack on him in an attempt to make a deal. Craig moved back again, now he was being the one uncomfortably close.

"Well, they must've been weird man, because a kiss is the age-old way to seal the deal," Tweek explained. Craig let his gaze fall the shorter demon before him. The lanky hunter could barely begin to speak before being interrupted.

"Do you want to try something else?" Tweek asked. Yet, before a response could be processed by the demon, Craig held Tweek's face between his hands, and placed a kiss on his lips. Tweek's eyes widened, but before he could react in anyway, Craig grabbed his wrist.

"The deal has been made," Craig growled gruffly. Craig led Tweek by the wrist, the demon's legs dragging on the floor. He squealed loudly, it felt like he was being dragged into hell all over again. Dirt covered his shoes and pant legs. The taller man dragged Tweek into the Impala, and practically threw him into the back seat. He stepped around the car door, and bounced into the drivers seat. 

"Ugh..." Tweek grunted. He began to try and get the dirt off of his ass and legs. Dust began to kick up in the car, Craig panicked and looked at Tweek from the front seat.

"Hey, not in Baby!" Craig snapped at Tweek and threw him a pair of black sweatpants. The blonde held up the pants, and looked at the lanky pair of legs confused. He could never fit in these. 

"These are way too long," Tweek whimpered. Craig scoffed, and started the car. 

"Too bad," Craig said harshly. Tweek panicked as the car started, he put his hands to the sides of his head as he looked around for a seat belt. He fumbled with his shirt sleeve before putting on the seat belt. 

"Wait! You've been drinking!" Tweek shrieked, Craig turned around to face Tweek from the front seat and smirked.

"I'm not a lightweight, it wasn't even a full cup of bourbon," With those words, Craig started the car and sped off. The slick black Impala skid as Craig drove off to his next location. The dirt kicked up behind his car, as they hung a left. Tweek looked out of the window wistfully. The moon, the stars, it was such a beautiful night. Tweek was also excited to the highest degree. He finally gets to ditch his old life killing people and taking souls, a life he never wanted in the first place. This thoughts were interrupted by Craig 

"You can change y'know, I won't look," Tweek's face lit up, he just processed what happened that night. He began to unzip his pants before he checked to see if Craig kept his promise. He sighed, and looked at the moon one more time, the very moon he would sleep under from now on. He listened to the quiet instead of tortured screams. He folded up the dirty pants, and felt the soft fabric of the sweat pants on his leg. No more agony, no more being mildly uncomfortable when the pizza guy was counting change. Well, maybe not that.  

 

"Goodbye Hell, I never want to see you again," Tweek whispered. The call of a whip-poor-will lulling the boy to sleep. 


	2. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny McCormick was always seen as a monster to himself and others, his mind has been set since one faithful night when he was 17, but what if a certain angel changes his entire view on life in a matter of hours?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm glad I got this done on time after Tech Week. I can't wait for the show to come out, even if I am just a part of ensemble.

_ Abomination _

 

That was all they ever called him, they wouldn’t ask for his name, no, they would only treat him as if he was some monstrosity. All Kenny McCormick is identified with is being a monster. Living like this wasn’t a way to live, so he turned to drugs, not doing them, but selling them. Monterey California was a good place for a Nephilim like him to hide, not too populated, but relatively remote. The main thing he sold was pot, and it was enough to get him by in a house near the river. Yet, one event changed his life forever. 

 

It was a stormy night, and residents were in a panic. The sea level was rising at an alarming rate, and the river east of downtown was also causing heavy alarm, but not to Kenny. He was actually relieved that most of the people went out of town. Now he had the opportunity to go outside, and thought that a nice, rainy trip down the river was a good idea. Kenny sighed through his parka, and opened the door of the small shack-like house he lived in.

 

He was only 17 when he ran away from home, he was only 17 when he left his sister behind, now he’s only 25, and still has a lot to learn about kindness. Yet, he already seemed too pessimistic, he knew that it had been drawn down to what that angel told him 8 years ago.

 

***

 

_ “You’re only a kid, hell, I am too,” her raven hair swept around in the wind, only kept down by her baseball cap.  _

 

_ “I know I’m a kid! I know that you are, but if you know that then why the hell are you trying to kill me!” He yelled back. The tornado was approaching, time to be scared.  _

_ “I have to! It’s god’s will!” she yelled back, her blade still gripped within her hands. Kenny got angry, and stormed closer to her. _

 

_ “I don’t give a damn about that fucker! Why are you trying to kill me?” Kenny demanded an answer, but instead he got a face full of Asian fist. He flew back, the punch already starting to bruise his eye.  _

 

_ “Don’t say that about your own grandfather! I’m not going to kill you, but an abomination like you needs to find a safe place!” the angel yelled those final words as the tornado over-took the house they were in. A pair of wings shined around her, and Kenny was no longer in Colorado. More importantly, Kenny was no longer home. _

 

_ *** _

 

Kenny looked outside, the rain was insanely strong, but the river still seemed like a nice idea. He tucked his gloved hands into his parka, and walked down the road. Watching all of the palm trees blow was oddly hypnotic. He made his way down a slightly muddy pass, eventually getting to the bride. The night sky wasn’t very visible, but it was still a pretty view. The raging river below him didn’t unsettle him in the slightest. McCormick bent over, and folded his arms on the side of the bridge. 

 

“The-the rain is nice isn’t it? A little cold though” Kenny jumped, and looked to his left to see a man in a teal jacket smiling at him. Kenny gave him a questioning glare, and sent him an unsure smile back. 

 

“So why are you out here?” Kenny asked. The other blonde laughed, and looked at Kenny. 

 

“Well, I should be asking the same,” Butters replied. Kenny let out a breathy chuckle, and looked out from the bridge. Lightning struck, and lit up Kenny’s face, I was the first time the teal-coated man could really get a good look at him. Thunder roared, and the world seemed to be relatively quiet for once, well- besides the roaring storm around them. 

 

“I’m Butters by the way, what’s your name?” He held out his hand, Kenny shook it, and flashed him a charming smile. Butters lightly blushed and looked into Kenny’s eyes. 

 

“Charmed, I’m Charlie,” Kenny lied and bowed. He had to lie, the whole drug dealer thing had to have some anonymity to it. Butters frowned, and looked at Kenny disappointed, practically on the verge of tears. Kenny looked up at the shorter blonde, and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Why would you lie to me?” Butters asked, heartbroken. Kenny had a heart attack, did someone just catch him in a lie? That has never happened before, what made this time different?

 

“What do you mean- my name is Charlie?” Kenny sputtered, trying his best to act confused. Butters stomped his foot. 

 

“Now that’s just mean! Why would you lie to me?” Butters asked. Okay, now Kenny was really panicking, who the hell is this person? 

 

“I’m sorry, it’s really Dylan,” Kenny said. Butters’ entire face turned red with anger, a bolt of lighting struck a branch and caused it to fall. Kenny looks at the falling, and now flaming branch in a panic. He held a silent hope that the whole lightning thing was a coincidence. 

 

“And now you lied to me again! I’m beginning to think that you aren’t a very good person Kenny!” Butters yelled, Kenny backed up against the side of the bridge. In a flash, the sandy blonde was no longer was on the bridge, he was falling. 

 

_ Fuck _

 

Was this the end? Well, Kenny couldn't be sure, hell- he didn't even get to give this man his name before he died. How would they find his body? Would his corpse just rot at the bottom of this dumbass river? He continued to fall, his body became limp, helpless within the air. It was the end. Or so it seemed. Kenny saw a face peer over the side of the bridge in panic. His only hope was staring down at him at the time, at him during his final moments of life. Then suddenly, Butters jumped down along with him. 

 

“W-what the hell are you doing!” Kenny sputtered out. The platinum blonde hair whipped around in the wind as the shorter one dove down to try and reach Kenny. Unexpectedly, he hits the water, it effectively knocked him out, but Butters dove down underneath the watery depths. Instead of having the consciousness knocked out of him, Butters had stayed perfectly awake. A sudden flash of light enveloped the two as he grabbed Kenny. 

 

_ That brings us to now _

 

Kenny felt a hand on his forehead, it was warm, and made his freezing skin light aflame. He groaned, and looked up at his saviour. The blinding light of a cheap lamp blurred his view. It look a while for his eyes to focus. He saw Butters, but more importantly he saw a motel room that wasn't his home. Kenny groaned, shrugging off the towel he had on. There was no way clothes on his body, but he didn't need to think about that right now. Right now, Kenny was in some random motel away from home. 

 

“Where the hell am I?” Kenny demanded at Butters. Butters turned around, and gave Kenny as disappointed frown. He put his knuckled on his hips and pouted. Butters looked absolutely adorable, like a little 6 year old who was told he couldn't have candy. 

 

“Wow, I saved your life, and- and you go on ahead and get mad!” Butters exclaimed. The lighting made his face a little more visible. It was very circular, full cheeks, a pair of clear blue eyes, and a scar that went across one of them. The same teal jacket was hanging on a coat rack, and the short blonde was wearing a cream-colored sweater that looked freshly washed. 

 

“Well, I also don't know you! Also, did you change my clothes?” Kenny asked angrily. Butters blushed, and looked to his side. He pushed his index fingers together, and then tugged on the sleeve of this sweater. 

 

“I- I can explain!” he babbled out. Kenny laughed and tried to shake off the fact that he was just kidnapped and stripped down after falling 200 feet into a bitter cold river. 

 

“Look, just tell me what you are and get me home,” Kenny affirmed laxly.  Butters sweat nervously, and looked at Kenny with an expression that screamed ‘yeah about that’. 

 

“Well, actually…” with those words Kenny tried to stand up, but he couldn't bring his legs to do so. He panicked, and lunged at Butters. He held him down and snarled. 

 

“What are you!” 

 

“Kenny, I’m an angel of the lord, and I am here to save you,” Butters explained calmly. Kenny slapped Butters, the sharp sound echoed through the room, and Butters just stared at Kenny. The sandy blonde regret it immediately. Butters teared up, sniffled, and sobbed. Kenny gasped and moved away from the crying man. Shocked, he quickly stuttered out an apology. 

 

“Oh my god are you okay?” Kenny got closer to Butters and put a hand on his cheek. 

 

“No!” Butters screeched, and pushed Kenny away. 

 

“I didn’t mean to-” Kenny was interrupted. Butters sat down on the floor sobbing, tears fell on the cheap, stained carpeting of the motel room. 

 

“I know, just I disobeyed my dad t-to save you, and I thought you would be nicer. I thought that you deserved to live!” Butters choked out. Kenny stayed quiet, his lips practically sewn shut. 

 

“He told me that abominations like you are filthy, and that they didn’t feel empathy or remorse,” He ranted. Kenny managed to scoot closer, he wanted to comfort Butters, but a part of him couldn’t. 

 

“Maybe I should've believed him,” the room was quiet. No more sobbing, no more rain, and no more words. Kenny got as close as he could, and hugged Butters. He knew that he had done so much for him, and that he shouldn't have done that. 

 

“I’m sorry, but let me tell you something,” Kenny finally croaked out. Butters pulled away from the hug and looked at Kenny. The anger and betrayal had seemed to melt away. Now Butters was wiping the tears away on Kenny’s shirt, it was bound to be stained later. 

 

“Whaddya want to tell me?” He asked, blowing his nose on Kenny’s shirt. Kenny didn’t mind, it wasn’t his shirt anyways. 

 

“I want to help you, I want to help you prove to your dad that abominations like me aren’t really abominations,” He affirmed. Kenny stared right into Butters eyes, and helped him up off of his feet. 

 

“What would you call me?” Kenny asked. He never really got a name for his ‘species’ all he really was addressed by was ‘abomination’ and it didn’t have the best ring to it. 

 

“Nephilim, just don’t call yourself an abomination, because I don’t think that,” Butters replied. Kenny nodded, he squeezed Butters’ shoulders and smiled. 

 

“I’m going to show him that Nephilidephias aren’t evil,” He proposed. Butters snorted, and gave Kenny a wide smile. 

 

“It’s Nephilim ya’ silly!” He lightly punched Kenny’s upper arm.  

 

“Ahhh, my delicate Nephilipa arm!” He jested, dramatically falling over and pretending to wince in pain. 

 

“Haha, very funny Kenny,” he rolled his eyes, and fell over onto the bed. Kenny sat down with his legs crossed at the foot of the bed. 

 

“So we’re sleeping here?” Kenny asked. Butters nodded as if he was proud of himself and flipped himself around on his stomach so he could see Kenny. 

 

“Not that I’m complaining, but there’s only one bed…” Butters’ face froze. He sat up and looked at Kenny. 

 

“Umm, well, I don’t really sleep anyways so...” Butters tried to find the correct words. 

“We should hit the hay!” he said, finally finding the right analogy. Kenny got himself under the covers, and opened the other side of the blanket. 

 

“You said ‘we’ now get in here, this place doesn’t have a heater, and I’m still cold,” Butters nodded and got in the spot on the bed. The warm, but scratchy sheets clung to his clothing. He moved uneasily as Kenny attempted to sleep. He finally settled down and began to snore for the very first time. The ironic part is really that one person did indeed stay awake. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenny calling Nephilims "Nephilidelphias" gives me a will to live. 
> 
> Chapter Three: May 14th or 15th 2018  
> Chapter Four: May 25th 2018  
> Special Chapter: May 26th 2018  
> *HIATUS DUE TO POSSIBLE COURT HEARING* This is a prediction, and has a possibility of not happening.  
> Chapter Five: June 4th to 6th 2018  
> Chapter Six: June 10th 2018  
> Chapter Seven: June 16th 2018
> 
> Also I am in need of minor characters, I have some that may be planned out, but you can email me at my Email address: snipermamafinland@gmail.com to get your OC featured in the story. I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO REFUSE TO USE A CHARACTER WITHIN THE STORY.


	3. Demon-Killing Duo Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two high school juniors are confronted by the reality of the supernatural, and their new futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoopee! I'm happy to say that the show was an enormous success, and that my posts will become more frequent past now. I'm sorry for the late chapter, the entire chapter get deleted, and I had to rewrite it.

Have you ever lost a loved one? Well, Kyle Broflovski lost two. For one, his dear grandmother, but that was 7 years ago. Yet more recently Kyle lost his brother. He lost his brother, a boy who was only 12 years old. Unjustly taken from the world through the hands of a murderer. They told him that he was crazy, the police, his father, his friends, and his entire town. They all told Kyle that Ike killed himself, but how does a boy mutilate himself so much in the act of suicide? Right now a more pressing issue; his mother, looms over him. He couldn't do anything, and she was going off of the deep end. She believed Kyle in the most insane manner, standing outside of the police station every day with a sign that says "HELP ME BRING MY SON BACK" printed in bold red colors on it. Within two months, it was almost as if Kyle never existed in the first place. His mother gone mad, his father hopeless, and the town accusing. Yet, one person stood by him.

 

"Dude, I wish I could choose the right words, but I find it hard to relate to your situation," Stan apologized. Kyle shook his head and frowned. Looking over to the portrait of Ike on the wall.

 

"How the hell would you relate to me? It's not every day your younger brother gets chopped up," Kyle said curtly. Stan sighed, noticing Kyle looking at the portrait. It wasn't even a photo, it was a picture this girl from his Psychology class drew for him. He only faintly remembered her from sophomore year. She had these two ponytails, and loved the color blue. Was her name Ashley? He couldn't remember, but that's not important now. 

 

"Look I get you found a lead, but it could be dangerous," Stan reasoned, trying to convince Kyle to not go on some adventure to turn in a criminal. Those days were over 7 years ago. 

 

"I know, but it's also my one chance to get my life back together," Kyle shot back. He tapped the console of his car, a blue 1971 Mercedes Benz he fixed up when he was 15. He looked at the glossy beige console and cleared his throat. 

 

"Wouldn't you do the same for your sister?" Kyle asked. Stan sighed and looked out of the window from the passengers seat. A lone pigeon flew by. 

 

"I don't think so, I really don't," 

 

"..." 

 

"..." 

 "That's fucked up man," Kyle blurted out. Stan turned around and looked at Kyle, eye contact was met, and boy was it awkward. After a minute of silence, Stan's words broke through the quiet aura of the car. 

 

"I'll help you Kyle, but only to prove that it was just a suicide that was trying to make a statement," Stan said. Kyle rolled his eyes, and muttered something under his breath.  Slowly, he pulled out of the driveway, but then pushed hard on the gas, making the car fly forward. Stan hit the back of the seat, and held back the bile that forced itself up his throat. He gave Kyle an angry glare. 

 

"What the hell was that for?" Stan yelled, Kyle chuckled and continued to drive. 

 

_"I was just getting over to our location before you change your mind."_

 

* * *

 

Surely Kyle was going insane right? Stan couldn't help but ask himself this question repeatedly in his head, especially after they pulled up to the South Park graveyard. 

 

"Why the hell are we here man? Why are you even doing this, it isn't like you!" Stan yelled, but Kyle just jolted out of the car the second they parked. Kyle ran to the trunk of the car, and Stan moved outside of the car. The night air prickled at his bare cheeks, and the owls seemed to be watching from their little holes in the trees. 

 

"You didn't answer my ques-" Stan was interrupted by Kyle, who paid little attention to Stan at the time, he was only restlessly looking around his car trunk. 

 

"Well, it's not like you to not have a little hope,  _Stan_ ," He spat, venom lacing his every word. Stan groaned and closed the car door, being careful to not break it, which he has indeed done before, but now was not the right time to be breaking his buddy's shit. He walked down to the back of the car and gasped. Weapons lined the small compartment, guns, knives, torches,.... salt? 

 

"What the hell? Is it even legal to own all of that shit?" Stan exclaimed, trying to knock some sense into Kyle's head. Yet, the ginger shook his head, and took out the scariest shotgun in the trunk. He pointed the gun towards the ground and started to load it, but the bullets didn't seem that normal. 

 

"Just take one if you don't want to die," Kyle said gruffly. Stan stood there in shock, he tried to heave his jaw off of the ground. Stan gestured both of his hands towards the weapon-filled car trunk, and tried to form coherent words. 

 

"We are going to KILL someone? Your brother's 'alleged' killer? You're crazy- just like your mom!" Stan stammered. Kyle cocked the gun and pointed it at Stan, a fire lit up in his eyes. 

 

"We are killing SOMETHING, not someone. And don't you _dare_ compare me to my mother!" Kyle snapped. He set the gun down and spat at Stan's feet before walking into the yard with a bag, gun, and pack of 'Kidz Fun' colored chalk. Stan grabbed a knife, and went after Kyle. He wasn't letting him murder an innocent person, but he also wasn't letting Kyle get hurt. Stan complied, and followed Kyle into the yard, but made sure to grab some water to drink just in case. 

 

* * *

 

 Stan couldn't believe what was happening. Right now he was sitting in the middle of a graveyard, at who-knows-what time, and watching his best friend since kindergarten draw a pentagram around a small clearing using bright blue chalk. Stan tried to stay quiet, water bottle in one hand, and knife in the other. He took a sip of water and set down the bottle next to it. Kyle finished drawing the sign and then stepped back. He huffed, and then took a small book out of his bag. The old leather bound book looked as if was about to fall apart, some pages sticking halfway out of the binding. Kyle also took out a small vial, and set it down in the center in the circle.

 

"Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum," Kyle muttered, walking around the circle, lighting the candles as he went. Stan held the knife and the bottle tightly. 

 

"Dude, what the hell is this voodoo shit?" Stan asked, but Kyle just ignored him. Lighting the last candle, Kyle began to speak again, this time, sprinkling a bit of powder on the last candle.

 

"Et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me," Kyle mumbled, and the pentagram lit up. Stan took a couple of steps back, and then looked at Kyle, who was completely out of it. Stan pulled Kyle away from the mysterious summoning circle. 

 

"What the hell wer-" Stan began to scold Kyle, but was interrupted by a new presence. Stan turned around to see the grave digger, but something wasn't right. The man with a scraggly and peppered beard, a lazy eye, and large shovel wasn't the same man. Kyle walked up to the grave digger and shook his hand. 

 

"It's a pleasure to finally talk to you, Azazel," the grave digger smiled a rotted smile, and then flashed his yellow eyes at Stan, the lazy one came into focus. 

 

"Ah, Broflovski! I was expecting one of you to turn up at my summoning table!" Azazel said in a jolly tone. Stan still stood by and held the knife close to him, he needed to be ready to attack. Kyle nodded and looked at Stan through his peripheral vision. 

 

"Look, in exchange for my grandmother's ashes, I want the demon who killed my brother right here, and I want the correct weapon to kill it with," Kyle bargained as if he had been practicing that one line all day. Azazel smiled, and hugged Kyle. 

 

"Oh I knew one of you Broflovski's you give 'er up one day!" Azazel cheered. Within a flash of light the vial of ashes in the center of the circle was gone, and a woman was passed out in the middle of the circle in its place. Kyle got up from the floor, after being knocked over by the force of the woman's fall. Stan stepped back and looked at the woman. Her hair was short and blonde, it seemed to all slide to the left, and most of her clothes were either black or grey. 

 

"Who the fuck put me here?" she slurred. The woman rubbed her head and leaned on her elbows, her eyes widened upon seeing Kyle. She tilted her head and scratched it. She chuckled. 

 

"Ayyy....." She looked up at the sky for a second as if she was trying to remember something. She made a small gasp and and 'oh' and looked at Kyle again.

 

"A Broflovski? Why the fuck are you here?" she slurred out. Kyle pointed the gun at her and fired, the sound boomed across the graveyard. The woman looked up at Kyle unscathed, she laughed, 

 

"W-wait- wait, yo- you..." She could barely get a work in through laughs. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. 

 

"You really think rock salt would be the trick kiddo? I get it Broflovski's are stupid, but this one takes the cake!" She said exasperated. A grin formed on her lips before she got up. She approached Kyle, and began to speak. 

 

"Well, time to kill two Broflovski's..." she muttered, and then charged.  She wrapped her red-nailed fingers around Kyle's throat and all Stan could do was watch as Kyle turned blue. he drank the rest of the water and ran out to try and help his struggling friend. 

 

"Get the hell away from Kyle!" Stan yelled before jumping onto the duo and trying to knock the blonde demon off of Kyle. She fell over, and all three of them went rolling down the hill, brambles and branches scratched at their skin, leaving stinging cuts and painful lesions all over their hands, arms, ankles, and faces.

 

"He- Ack!" Kyle attempted to choke out words, but the woman on top of him just raked her sharp nails into his neck every time he attempted to speak. Stan pulled her hair trying to get her off of Kyle, she loosened her grip for a second, which allowed Kyle to take one deep breath, but she just raked her nails into his neck again. The three of them landed on a piece of flatland on the bramble filled hill and continued to fight.

 

"Oh goodness..." The demon elbowed Stan in the gut, making him draw back in pain. As he held back the barf he stopped right in front of the demon and the Jew, and barfed all over the blonde on top of Kyle. She screeched in extreme agony, and took herself off of Kyle. The sound of sizzling oil pierced the air, and the demon fell over on the floor in pain. Stan remembered the knife in his boot, and stabbed the woman in the back as she bent over in pain. 

 

"YOu fucker!" She lets out a shrill scream before she stops moving, and breathing altogether. Kyle took a deep breath trying to regain his ability to stand, and Stan just stared at the dead body. Kyle looked at the puke-covered corpse, and pat Stan on the back. 

 

"Of course he made the knife the weapon and not the gun- of fucking course," Kyle ranted before starting to climb back up the hill. Stan followed shortly behind, being careful to not get pricked by more thorns. Just before he disappeared over the hill he took a look at the body one more time. The second he makes it over the edge, he sees Kyle collecting his stuff, and smudging out the pentagram. Stan still held the bloody knife in his hand, and walked over to the car. Kyle approached Stan and opened the hood for him. 

 

"What the hell happened there?" Stan asked, in a daze. Kyle shook his head and dumped his stuff in the trunk. Stan set down the knife.

 

"I don't know man- I don't know..." Kyle replied, he seemed to be turning back into his old self again. Hopefully it would stay that way. Kyle looked into the trunk and noticed something missing. 

 

"Hey, Stan did you take a crinkled up water bottle, about half full?" Kyle asked. Stan nodded, and gave Kyle a confused glare. 

 

"Yeah, I drank it before the fight, why do you ask?" Stan replied. Kyle chuckled and closed the trunk. The night was on the verge of ending seeing that the sun began to peek put from behind the mountains. 

 

"Stan- pfft, you drank holy water, and saved me by barfing on the demon," Kyle snorted. Stan laughed as well as Kyle unlocked the car and got in. Stan followed, and almost immediately put on his seat belt.

 

"Stan, I'm sorry that I was acting like that," Kyle muttered, Stan tilted his head. 

 

"Acting like what- look we've all been acting a little funny," Stan replied, Kyle sighed and started the engine. 

 

"I sure hope so..." 

 

* * *

 

 

And that was the start of a beautiful career...

 

A beautiful  **hunting** career that is... 

 

 To be continued in Part 2

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I really need OCs to use for this story! All you have to do is send me an email to snipermamafinland@gmail.com with a link to any description of you character. I'll take OCs from Amino as well. You can contact me by my username ~*Literally Satan*~, and I'd be happy to talk.
> 
> Side not: If it seems weird that Azazel just came and went so quickly, and if it felt out of place that he would want Gram-Gram dust, just wait to see a full explanation later.

**Author's Note:**

> I am in need of minor characters, I have some that may be planned out, but you can email me at my Email address: snipermamafinland@gmail.com to get your OC featured in the story. I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO REFUSE TO USE A CHARACTER WITHIN THE STORY.


End file.
